


Destiny and an End

by scathach124



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Execution, Non-Graphic Violence, Sad Ending, Tudor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scathach124/pseuds/scathach124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Tudor England - for failing to give Lord Grantham a male heir, Cora prepares for her execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny and an End

"M'lady...it's time."

Cora turned around slowly to face a downcast Charles Carson. His usual stone-cold face now appeared older and softer, but a heavy sadness had enveloped him. The same was said for the nameless men behind him, the guards who gripped their halberds and avoided eye contact. Her maids had had a difficult time hiding their tears, and one young one had nearly stained Cora's slate-grey dress with her tears. Yet Cora herself could no longer cry. She had seen a number of women executed in years past, and most had shaken so much they needed assistance to climb the scaffold and kneel at the block.

"Are you prepared, m'lady?" Carson asked.

Cora knew even if she wasn't, she'd be headed to the scaffold just the same. There was no point in fighting anymore: she wouldn't live to see the next hour. She refrained from trembling and answered, "I am."

With her maids and the guards behind her and Carson leading the way outside, Cora thought how quickly she had rose, and how quickly she had fallen. Rescued from a mundane country life by Lord Grantham and introduced to a life of unimaginable luxury. She prayed to bear him a strong heir, but after birthing three daughters and miscarrying a son she had been ripped her from the favor of her husband. She knew that the failure to bring his heir would end with her being accused of adultery and a public execution.

How she had wept last night in her chamber, but now Cora walked into the grey morning with surprising calmness. She saw the crowd of people, common and noble, who shouted profanity and blessings. They reached out to touch her, with the destitute women stroking the fur and fabric that shielded her from the cool breeze. The more finely dressed witnesses pressed their rosaries against her and made the sign of the cross as Cora ascended the wooden scaffold. The executioner stood like a statue, not looking at the woman he had to murder. Cora hid her anxiety as she searched the crowd for a familiar face. She hardly knew of anyone here. Then she looked up and - there! Mary, the eldest of her daughters, was watching from a window. She had the same aristocratic look as always, and Cora wondered if Mary was mistaking her mother for another poor soul.

Sibyl was also here, hiding behind a stone wall. Dear Sibyl had a tough life being born a woman. So rebellious and political that many an occasion she had been called a witch. Cora feared that Sibyl would be condemned to burn or lose her head simply for speaking her mind. Her father had even contemplated sending her to the Tower. Cora had fought for her youngest daughter, and it was the last straw for Robert; he had her arrested almost immediately, calling her a "blasphemous witch!"

Cora couldn't see Edith anywhere. A girl without a pretty face to attract a husband. Surely her daughters were doomed to live either as ugly spinsters or burn to death. Even Mary, who had more suitors than a fairy-tale princess, had her past that, if revealed, would secure her fate.

Cora watched the crowd of people, now quiet, and Carson stepped forward to remove her cloak for her.

"Please, I would like to speak to them first," Cora said. Carson shrank back, muttering, "m'lady."

The crowd waited for her to speak. Mary opened her window a crack to hear her mother's last words, and Sibyl stepped out from behind the wall a bit. How hard the both of them had fought to keep Cora's life, but everything they did was in vain. Her father, heartbroken and angry at Cora's failed pregnancies, was relentless in having her finished.

Cora took a few breaths and began her speech.

"Good Christian people, I have come here to die to atone for the crimes I have been accused of. I pray that you forgive me for my sins and to pray for the lives of my children and my husband the lord of this land. I submit to death with a good will."

Only words, she thought. Only formalities. Her husband did not deserve to be prayed for. He, the ungrateful bastard who had been blessed with three beautiful daughters and a faithful wife.

Her beloved maid, Sarah O'Brien, stepped onto the scaffold to take her mistresses's effects. Without the heavy cloak the breeze froze Cora's skin, but it was consolation that she would be in the warmth of paradise very soon. O'Brien was hysterical, trembling as she removed Cora's gold earrings and her necklace. She folded the white cap over Cora's hair and tucked in the loose strands. As Cora thanked her, smiling, O'Brien nodded and hurried off the scaffold, not able to watch her mistress's death without collapsing.

Cora watched O'Brien disappear, and wished that she was there. With her loyal O'Brien standing there Cora had nothing to fear. She saw Sibyl watching the scene, sobbing, her lips moving, forming words that Cora could not hear. Mary was gone from the window.

In front of the straw Cora knelt. She looked at the wooden block that she was to lay her head on. But Cora hesitated, whispering, "Sweet Jesus, receive my soul," over and over. More formalities. She felt herself tremble, and willed herself not to lose her sanity in her last moment. The crowd murmured, "Lord have mercy."

Cora looked up at the morning sky. Purples and pinks mingled with the grey clouds. A new day that she would not see. When her mangled body is removed from the scaffold, the people will return to their lives and they will go on living in this cruel world, a world impossible to survive in.

She saw a bevy of blackbirds lined on the wall behind Sibyl, standing and watching the scene just as the crowd below her did. Sibyl had controlled her tears and did not look away from her mother. Cora gave her a warm smile.

She bent and lay her head on the block. She let her vision settle on Sibyl before closing them. She smelled the morning air and felt the wood against her skin. She heard the executioner take hold of his axe and the sobs of the weak women sounded in the yard. Even an inch from death, Cora was not afraid. In all her life she had never felt such calm.

My girls, Cora thought, let my sweet girls live long.

The axe fell, and the birds sitting on the wall flew into the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first published fic on Fanfiction. Ah, the memories.


End file.
